


Into the Fox Den

by Backwardshirt



Category: Bleach
Genre: After TTYBW, Angst with a Happy Ending, Biting, Cannon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, GrimmIchi - Freeform, Grimmjow swears a lot, Honestly nothing new there, I love him but he's so dumb, Ichigo doesn't know what to do, Ichigo is so dumb, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Jealousy, Kitsune, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Spirits, jealous boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27446782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwardshirt/pseuds/Backwardshirt
Summary: Urahara gets word of some unusual happenings in the forest, and decides a certain orange haired Shinigami should take a look, much to the Shinigami's dismay. It was the weekend--Ichigo has stuff he'd like to get done! But instead he spends it hiking up a deserted path into the mountains in his human body with Urahara in the lead. It's probably just some unquiet spirits, Ichigo didn't understand what all the fuss was about. And why was Grimmjow tagging along?
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 19
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

Hiking was for people who hated themselves and who had too much time on their hands, Ichigo thought. Climbing uphill to absolutely no destination, all for what? To turn around and march right back down the same way they came. It was _pointless_ , and he definitely wasn’t saying that because he was forced into doing it _right now._

Overgrown trees towering above them as they climbed worn stairs, carved into the mountain side itself. Everything was bathed in a dark green light, even though the sun was high in the sky. The scent of decaying plant matter was pretty thick, along with a musky dampness—not quite rain smell, but close. As long as he didn't walk through any cobwebs...

_“Do I really have to? Can’t you just send Imoyama or someone?” Ichigo whined to the shopkeeper giving him the job. It was the weekend and he just wanted to alternate studying and sleeping, but oh noooo that would be too perfect of a day. Ichigo wasn’t allowed to ever have a day off it seemed. The Soul Society could suck his dick._

_“His name is Kurumadani, dear Ichigo, and it’s outside his jurisdiction of Karakura, so he wouldn’t be allowed to leave anyway,” Urahara told him, scratching his stubbly face. “Besides, you need the exercise.”_

_“Fuck you, I’m in excellent shape.” Ichigo said, giving him the finger. Urahara just chuckled to himself and patted Ichigo’s shoulder. Refusing the man never did Ichigo any good, anyway. He'd be going not matter what, Ichigo figured. Best to get it over with so he could salvage what little of a weekend he would have._

_“Besides, I’ve got a feeling it may not be human spirits we’re dealing with,” he continued, reaching down to grab a small green backpack. He tossed it at Ichigo who caught it effortlessly. It was heavy._

_“We?”_

And that’s how Ichigo got roped into hiking up a damn mountain in his _human body_ with Kiskue Urahara, genius and bastard extraordinaire. He’d hassled Ichigo into carrying _both_ their packs, complaining about his back like the old geezer he actually was.

“And _why_ can’t you just go up in your soul forms?” another voice whined.

Oh yeah, Grimmjow was here too. Tagging along for the sure spite of making Ichigo’s life harder than it had to be. He’d been going back and forth between Hueco Mundo and the human world ever since the war had ended a couple years ago.

“Wouldn’t want to give ourselves away, Grimmjow-san." Urahara said from the front. Ichigo watched as Grimmjow sneered at the honorific, knowing the blue haired arrancar hated them. 

“Worst field trip ever,” he complained, stretching his arms above his head. Shadows of the overgrown foliage around them covered them in speckled darkness, holes through the dense leaves and trees giving way to only a few rays of sunlight.

“Quit whining, Grimmjow.” Ichigo quipped, shooting the blue haired man a glare. Grimmjow crinkled up his nose and stuck out his tongue like a juvenile. Ichigo rolled his eyes. The arrancar had calmed down considerably now that Hueco Mundo was safe. Well… _safer._ It would never be completely safe, Ichigo reasoned, being it’s the home of literal _hollows_. But it wasn’t being ravaged by the Quincys. Not that any of that made Grimmjow less of a dick.

Urahara had designated him a ‘representative’ of Hueco Mundo, meaning he would regularly make trips for supplies and trade info between the Soul Society and Hueco Mundo. Ichigo just called it being Urahara’s and _bitch boy._ Well, whatever. Grimmjow seemed satisfied with whatever the hell was going on, and wasn’t actively trying to sharpen his claws on Ichigo’s femur constantly anymore. _Win-win, I guess,_ he thought.

“I told you to stay at the shop,” Ichigo said, rubbing his temples in circling motions, trying to stave off an oncoming headache. Urahara lead the way, ignoring the conversation behind him mostly. He had his cane, making him look like and old man hobbling up dirt stairs overrun with weeds and vines. He still had on his striped hat and geta. _His feet must be made of steel_ , Ichigo decided.

“No you didn’t.” Grimmjow was walking beside him currently, crossing his arms behind his head, giving off the impression he was the most bored person in the entire world.

“Yes, I specifically said, Grimmjow don’t come, you’ll get bored really quick, and you said ‘ _you can’t tell me what to do Kurosaki’,_ and came anyway.”

“Tch.” Grimmjow rammed his shoulder into Ichigo, causing him to stumbled a bit, a thorny vine catching on the sleeve of his jacket. It ripped a little bit as Ichigo tried to free himself. He was steadying himself to shoulder him back when Urahara spoke up.

“Well, this conversation is going nowhere, but I think I see the end of the trail.”

Ichigo could see what he thought was the top of the stairs. _Thank the gods_ , he thought. His legs hurt. His back hurt. His _everything_ hurt. Ichigo wished he had remembered pain pills, but alas, his father didn’t believe in those. 

_"Pain makes a man stronger!" Isshin said as he postured under his medical coat, flexing like he was in some horrible body-building competition of one, after Ichigo asked where their medicine was. Ichigo just rolled his eyes. Yuzu laughed. For a licensed medical professional, he sure wasn't professional. Or all that medical, if Ichigo was being honest, remembering how he often slipped in a little healing kidou on patients from time to time. That definitely wasn't licensed either._

_"Well if a certain man doesn't get me any for my cramp soon, he's going to know real pain." Karin said from her huddled up position on the couch, flipping Isshin off. Ichigo grimaced at the sight. She'd probably kill him if he took any of them, so he'd just not get hurt, he decided. If he got back from his unplanned trip to Urahara's forest of death and sadness, he'd buy her some chocolate. Her cramps looked like they sucked, and who doesn't love a little chocolate._

Reaching the top finally, the group found themselves underneath a broken torii gate. The way it was split reminded Ichigo of the senkaimon he destroyed all those years ago, middle sliced clean through. Pieces of rotten wood littered the ground at their feet. He could faintly see red paint on one side of the gate. It was pretty clear no-one had been up here in a long time.

Before them was a small shrine, no bigger than Ichigo was tall, built into the biggest tree he’d ever seen; dark, gnarled roots twisting and turning around and through the foundation it set atop of. Faded paint on the outside, one door hanging broken to the side, letting them see absolute, and unnatural blackness within. _Was it hollow inside the tree?_ Off to the side on either side of the shrine was a small rock, narrower at the top, with an old rope wrapped around the widest part, fraying tassels dangling limp in the windless clearing. Ichigo could imagine the paper streamers that would ordinarily hang between them.

“Wow, this shrine is _ancient._ ” Ichigo said, walking closer, careful not to trip over the thick roots, looking more closely at it. The thatched roof was full of holes. Ichigo didn’t put much stock in shrines and the sprits supposedly living inside them, but the sight of such a dilapidated and obviously forgotten one tugged at his heartstrings.

“Shrine?” Grimmjow asked beside him, reaching out his hand to touch the wooden door. Ichigo caught his hand before he could do anything. Grimmjow grunted in surprise, but did nothing else. There were obvious cracks in the wooden foundation it was sitting on; he could see roots beneath the holes.

“Yeah, it’s like a sacred place, so they built a little enclosure where a deity or spirit could rest or people could put offerings in.” Ichigo explained, not letting go of the others hand. He didn’t he wouldn’t purposely break something, but too much caution was better than not enough in this case.

“Deity?” _Grimmjow's released form should be a parrot instead,_ Ichigo thought, rolling his eyes. 

“Like a God or something—I don’t really know.”

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at him. “Ain’t this kind of a soul reapers thing?”

“Ah, a good question, dear Grimmjow-san!” Urahara said from behind the pair, sitting his lazy ass on a particularly large nub of the root on one side of the broken gate. “These spirits are generally from and tied to the earth itself, and therefore have no influence or bearings with the soul society,” he explained.

“Wait, so they’re real?” Blue and blond turned to Ichigo, eyebrows raised. Grimmjow squinted at him, like he didn’t believe what he heard, fangs slightly bared.

“I gotta hole straight through my stomach, an’ a sword that transforms me into a cat-man hybrid that shoots spikes outta my elbows. You’re tellin’ me you don't believe in—”

“Will you shut up! I’ve never seen one before, so I had nothing to base it off of!” Ichigo snapped, pushing his free hand roughly through Grimmjow’s soft hair, cutting off the other man, and squeezing the hand he forgot he was holding. Turning his head to hide rising embarrassment, he ran his free hand across the root vines swirling around the marked rock, hoping Grimmjow wouldn't see his face reddening. 

“By the looks of it, this is actually a hokura, a minor shrine. Though I hadn't expected to see one so out of the way.” Urahara said, behind them, ignoring Ichigo’s ignorance completely. Ichigo watched him run his fingers up the broken torii. Beneath the striped green hat, he could see his brows furrowed together, mouth sunk in a tight line. He looked sad. Looking at the broken door, the holes in the roof, decaying wood beams, and barely-there faded paint, Ichigo agreed. He'd never seen an abandoned shrine before; usually there was always _someone_ looking after even the oldest shrines. 

The wooden beams and roof had seen much better days; he wondered who had trekked up the mountain side to make a small shrine in such an unfriendly looking area and then just...left it to rot. It was obvious it didn’t get any visitors. It was kinda creepy the way roots twisted around the shrine, like it was trying to absorb it back into the tree.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anything there.” Grimmjow said, raising Ichigo’s hand to his mouth and biting it. Ichigo yelped and let go, smacking the blue head with his other head. Ichigo half considered rearing around and biting the man back, just to spite him. It didn’t look like he drew blood though. _Well, that’s a first._

“Bastard,” he muttered, watching Grimmjow eyeing the tied rocks, running his fingers across the twisted rope lightly, like he was afraid it would break. _Must’ve not heard me._ Flatting a palm, he pushed against the rock a little, to see how sturdy it was, and it wiggled a little in place. Ichigo glared at him, trying to telepathically tell him _stop messing with the sacred stuff before you get set on fire._

“Yes, it does seem curiously empty here.” Urahara said, dancing around the river of tree undergrowth to the side of the shrine where the door was hanging off, dragging his fingers across the rotting wood. Ichigo couldn’t even see any old offerings inside, just pieces of decaying wood, fallen from the ceiling inside.

“It’s abandoned, of course it’s empty.” Ichigo looked around at the open space. There weren’t any other trees around, like they had been swallowed up by the single, massive tree with equally massive shimenawa twisted around the bulk of the trunk. Only roots, cascading around the grotto, like a sacred river turned to stone. Most of them were as thick as his leg; _this tree must be at least five hundred years old._ The rest was dirt and dead leaves, caught between the crevices and holes of the underfoot system.

“It’s far from abandoned, dear Ichigo.” Urahara said, peering into the blackness. Stretching out his hand palm up, he stopped right before his fingers would dip into the darkness, the other hand held up to shush the two men behind him. Ichigo looked from him to Grimmjow, who had an eyebrow raised in curiosity. Grimmjow met his gaze and shrugged, like he didn’t know what the hell Urahara was talking about.

“You can come out; we won’t hurt you.”

Ichigo squinted into the darkness of the dilapidated shrine. He couldn’t sense anything, which was nothing new, to be honest. He was shit at sensing stuff in his soul form; in his human form he was damn near running blind. Grimmjow on the other hand said it seemed empty as well, if _he_ couldn’t sense anything, with how sharp he was, then how could Urahara?

A flash of color in the darkness, so fast, Ichigo almost didn’t see it. The hanging door rattled a little. A sudden gust of wind swept by Ichigo, sending shivers down his spine. He thought he heard some branches breaking behind him, but when he turned, there was nothing. Noise again to his left, then to his right, still nothing when he looked. Whatever it was, was much too fast for him to see with his human eyes. He was about to say something to Urahara when, something flashed in front of the men.

Before them stood a little girl.

Well. No.

That wasn’t quite right. She looked like a little girl, except for the fluffed tail swishing behind her and the little ears on her head. Both were somewhat translucent, a reddish kind of…energy faintly swirling inside, which struck Ichigo as odd. The tail and ears definitely were more spectral than anything, but…what was she? Looking at her bare feet, Ichigo noticed that instead of ten little human toes poking out of the ratty kimono bottom, were paws.

“My, my,” Urahara said, clicking his tongue. “What’s a small Kitsune like you doing in the human world?” He knelt slowly, one knee sinking into a bed of dead leaves.

“Kitsune?” Grimmjow asked, leaning down to look more closely at the girl, but not moving closer.

“A folklore fox spirit,” Ichigo said, trying to get a better look at her ghostly little ears, which were flicking back and forth, tail swishing behind her. She crinkled up her nose, sniffing the air and sneezed, spraying snot all over Urahara’s hand in a disgusting show of accidental dominance, Ichigo was sure. Instead of jumping away from the spirit snot, he simply grabbed a handkerchief out of a hidden pocket in his haori because he was an _old man_ , and wiped his hand off.

“Folklores don’t sneeze all over people,” he said, tucking the cloth back in his pocket and patting it.

The little kitsune girl shook her head back and forth quickly and flopped down on her bottom in a patch of wet dirt, eyes large and head cocked slightly to the side. She was even smaller than Nel in her child form, and oh, Ichigo could cry she was so cute. Near white shoulder length hair, messy little bangs, like she tried cutting them herself, hit right below her thin eyebrows, pale, pudgy face almost shining in the little sunlight that reached underneath the trees multitude of leaves. She leaned her head to the other side, Ichigo briefly caught a glimpse of pale blue eyes. Her black kimono with a crane pattern stitched in sliver, was covered in holes and dirty, edges frayed.

He liked kids, and was pretty good with them--they always seemed to like him as well. Hell, he had two sisters--last time they tried to kill him was...two weeks ago, if he was counting it right. Karin held him down while Yuzu tried to smother him with a towel he wasn't supposed to use on his face, but _all towels look the same damnit_. Taking a chance, Ichigo moved slowly toward the little girl and knelt beside Urahara, hand outstretched towards her.

“Hey there little one, do you have a name?” He said softly, wiggling his fingers, hoping to entice her closer. He’d never met a Kitsune before—never met any of these kind of sprits before. Were spirits and creatures like her different from the world of the soul society? Did she have her own world? He’d have to aske Kiskue later, he seemed to know something about them. She watched his fingers move with wide eyes, mouth hanging open slightly. Ichigo could see a small fang poking out underneath little pink lips. He could feel it a second later, when she bit down on his hand hard, breaking skin and growling like a feral animal.

Ichigo yelled, trying to yank his hand away from her needle-filled mouth, but she was clamped down tight, and moved with him. He tried to shake her off, but she wasn’t having it. Tears of pain prickled in the corners of his eyes, but _oh god he couldn’t let them fall_. He would never live it down. What the _fuck_ was up with people biting him today?

“Leggo leggo Let go of me damnit!!” Damn her teeth were sharp; it felt like they were grinding against the bones in his hand. She kept growling, tail swishing furiously back and forth behind him; it hit Ichigo in the face a couple times—the white fur wasn’t nearly as soft as it looked. She was chomping down in the same place Grimmjow had bit him earlier, right between his thumb and forefinger.

Out of the corner of his blurry vision, Ichigo noticed Grimmjow moving. He stepped behind the little girl and pushed a finger into her knife filled mouth, prying her off Ichigo’s abused hand. Still snarling, _and being cute at the same time damnit_ , she let go of Ichigo’s fingers only to chomp down on Grimmjow, who looked curious more than anything. Ichigo shook his hands, blood flecking off his fingers and spattering a few roots and dead leaf groundcover. He heard Urahara chuckle beside him; he rolled his eyes and turned to Grimmjow, who was sitting in a clear space on the ground cross-legged, fingers still caught in the little kitsune’s mouth. Ichigo had no idea why he had done that. He usually relished in Ichigo being in pain, whether or not he was the one who caused it. Maybe because she was something he’d never seen before.

“Ah, thanks. But now she’s kinda clamped on you.” Ichigo flexed his throbbing fingers which were still bleeding slightly. Wait, why did he care if Grimmjow was getting bit? He _deserved_ it. Wishing he remembered to pack a first aid kit, but getting his fingers damn near bit off by a growling kitsune kid wasn’t exactly high on his ‘what if this happens’ list, Ichigo just glared at Grimmjow instead. The man had a face just begging to be punched, not because it was a bad face—it was a very good face—only it was attached to a dick personality. Looking at his bleeding hand, Ichigo wondered if it would be considered bad manners to use his mouth to stop the bleeding. Was that a thing? Then again, he didn't want to get ghost spit in his mouth, who knew what would happen. 

“Tch, she ain’t biting through my hierro with these weak fangs.” Grimmjow moved his claimed hand back and forth, moving her head with him. Her hair fluttered around her face, eyes now glowing red.

“Looks like she’s trying pretty hard, though.” Ichigo watched as Grimmjow studied her face intently, watching any little move her face made, every twitch, jerk, and shake. She growled as he brought his face closer.

He shook her again slightly, looking irritated at the little kitsune chomping on his fingers like chicken tenders, tail flicking back and forth quickly. The red energy of her tail was much brighter now, but still see-through. It looked a little bushed out, like she felt threatened. He drug the little one close to his face, her eyes darted to him, to his hand, and back to him, but otherwise did nothing except emit another high-pitched growl.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, and leaned down to the kid, opening his mouth, showing his fangs at her. Trying to scare her off him? That sounded about right.

Then he promptly bit down on her spectral ear. That sure as hell didn’t.

“What the actual _fuck_ , Grimmjow!?” Ichigo shouted. He was gonna kill him. Sure, the chomp to _his_ hand was irritating, and it hurt like hell, but you don’t just go and _bite a little kid you big stupid fuckwad._

She let out a small sound of pain and let go of Grimmjow’s fingers, little hands curling around her spectral ears, like she was checking if they were still attached. A strong hand caught her by the collar of the kimono before she could run and brought her face to face with the ex-espada. From where Ichigo stood, it looked like her face was all scrunched up. The ear Grimmjow bit wasn’t bleeding; Ichigo didn’t know if it would even be possible. Then again, he didn’t even know you could bite a ghost ear. _He mustn’t have bit down very hard? Or did he just like, pass through it and it startled her? What the hell was going on?_

“Don’t bite.” Was all he said, flicking her on the nose lightly. Ichigo gaped at him; _talk about the pot calling the kettle black._ She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, fat tears building in the corner of her eyes. _Damn_ that idiot. She was just scared, biting was probably her reflex. He didn’t have to go and make her _cry_ ; that would just make her more afraid of them. Ichigo really wanted to hold her, he couldn’t do that if Grimmjow scared the absolute _shit_ out of her.

But Ichigo just watched in mute fascination as the little one wrapped her little arms around Grimmjow’s neck and squeezed, burying her face into the crook of his neck, and sniffled like she was trying to hold back her tears. The small sob that escaped, muffled by Grimmjow’s body, said she was failing miserably. That was definitely not the reaction he had been expecting. She had squirmed out of his grip and just clung to him. Grimmjow stared between Ichigo and Urahara, a look of horrified confused on his face. Kid just cried harder. Ichigo glared at him. _You deserve everything that’s happening you asshat._

\-------------------------

The little Kitsune had calmed down after a while, but didn’t stray from Grimmjow. She made a hissing sound every time Ichigo got close. Possessive little beast. Grimmjow just sat there like a moron while Urahara and Ichigo took turns trying to unlatch her from him. She had situated herself between his crossed legs, watching her reflection move in the silver tips, ears twitching, spectral tail all fluffed up, swiping the part of his skin that was exposed. Grimmjow wiggled his foot a little bit and she smacked the silver, trying to catch what she saw. Covering her reflection with both hand-paw-things, she tilted her face up towards to Grimmjow….and _smiled,_ baby fangs showing and all. He just quirked an eyebrow down at her, unimpressed.

Ichigo was going to cry. All Grimmjow had to do was act like his asshole self, and he had the little kit all over him. Why couldn’t she like him instead? He was much nicer. She could sit on him! Maybe if he had brought a toy or something. The only things in his light pack were some matches, his wallet, a water bottle, and his wooden badge. He definitely didn’t pack very smart. Maybe Urahara had something? Candy or something weird and shiny he could use to lure her over to him.

“Mei-Mei, what are you doing! Those are humans!!” a voice from the tree behind the shrine called out. The kit—Mei-Mei, turned her attention to the voice and let out a small huff, more interested in the person she was currently sitting on, her little paws fisting into the black fabric of Grimmjow’s pants. There was some rustling between the trees on the edge of the forest, skittering around, a branch breaking underfoot.

A boy was in front of them this time, brown tail sticking straight up behind him. His feet were also more paw-like, little claws poking out from underneath his wrinkled and worn hakama, white kimono much cleaner than the girls. 

“The fuck I ain’t.” Grimmjow said, “And the fuck are you supposed to be?”

The boy stiffened at the language, rounded ears pressing back, tail bushing up even more, if that was even possible. Ichigo rolled his eyes. Leave it to Grimmjow to take offence at the dumbest thing and be incredibly rude to what was obviously another spirit. Ichigo offered the boy a small smile in apology, a _I’m so sorry he’s a moron; he’s okay two days a month,_ smile.

“Ah, a tanuki, I see,” came Urahara’s more melodic voice, trying to calm the tension brought on unnecessarily by Grimmjow. “I had figured the little one wasn’t completely alone.” He motioned to the little girl, cheek resting on the arrancar’s knee, eyes slipping shut. Was she really about to go to sleep in the lap of that idiot? What was wrong with Ichigo’s lap? Couldn’t they switch? He didn’t care about her biting him. Hell, she could bite him again if that would get her over to him. Reaching out his hand, he just wanted to pat her little white head, just once. She growled at him, turning to glare through the space of Grimmjow’s arm and his leg. Grimmjow snorted at her reaction and swept a hand across her hair. She let out a small, happy noise. Ichigo frowned, _that dick._ _He_ was about ready to bite the ex-espada himself.

“There’s nothing to worry about, little tanuki. We’re quite different than normal humans.” Urahara removed his hat, and Ichigo could see his eyes crinkled up. The boy didn’t seem very convinced, fisting his little claws into his dark gray hakama, but said nothing. Straw hat tied around his neck swayed back and forth in the slight breeze.

“The rest of you can come out too, we’re not going to hurt you.” Urahara added, leaning back on his arms, relaxing. Trying to show the big, scary men weren’t dangerous. _Best two out of three_ , Ichigo thought.

The rest of them? There were more? Ichigo swiveled his head around, looking around, squinting into the tree line. He couldn’t see anything, no spectral tails or ears, hell not even any flashes of color. Were there were more of the little foxes? Would they be as cute? Could one of _them_ sit in his lap? He really wanted to hold one, preferably one that didn’t bite, but beggars/choosers. If that’s what it took, Ichigo would gladly let one clamp down on his hand again, his thumb rubbing over the still tender area. It would be worth it. 

Urahara, for all his weirdness, had the gift of bringing a sense of calm—the spirits must have sensed that, because then they were everywhere. Seven or eight little spirits, all looked like Kitsune’s, the rest of them seemed male, but Ichigo couldn’t tell for sure. Figured it would be impolite to ask. Three made a beeline straight to Ichigo, much to his delight. One immediately latched onto his arm, sniffing the fabric of his sweatshirt, before he dug his teeth into the fabric and pulled, causing a big dumb smile to spread across his face.

“Ouch, hey!” Ichigo heard Grimmjow say, as another of the spirits tugged at his sleeve, turning his hand over and running little prickly claws over the lines.

“You little fuckers,” he growled. Looking over to the man, he had one clinging to each arm, the right one was pulling on his jawbone mask. The little girl was asleep in his lap by now, it looked like, and didn’t wake up when Grimmjow started swatting at the other two.

“I think they like your mask, Grimmjow.” Ichigo chuckled. Grimmjow glare shot daggers at him. _Too bad you’ve got shit aim._ To his left, Urahara had pulled out a small orange ball and rolled it towards the three foxes sniffing around him. One with black hair immediately batted at it, sparking the attention of the other two. Pretty soon, Ichigo was looking at a weird monkey-in-the-middle game, jumping and hopping over gnarled roots, but with little spirits that were almost human looking, except for ears, tails, and paws.

“Well they can like it and not touch it,” Grimmjow growled at the boys who just snickered, but ran off to join the ones with the ball.

The little kitsune girl woke up then, or decided to participate at least, and rubbed her eyes. She turned in Grimmjow’s lap and looked at him with wide eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at her as he swatted at a stray fox child reaching for his mask. One of the boys around Ichigo had started digging around in his hair, apparently to see if he had bugs? Hell if he knew, but he was at least getting the attention of _one_ of the little spirits. Claws kinda hurt though; least this one didn’t draw blood.

“Whaddya want squirt?” She reached her little arms out to him. Grimmjow stared at Ichigo, a blank look on his face, lips set in a thin line.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, little one,” Urahara said, laughing behind his fan. _Where did he pull that from,_ Ichigo thought. He was packing both their packs because Urahara was a lazy bastard. A brown paw reached out and snatched it from his grasp; the shopkeeper frowned slightly, but didn’t try to get it back. The kit started waving it immediately, blowing a bunch of dead leaves around the not very annoyed shopkeeper.

“What? What does she want?” Grimmjow asked, eyeing the girl, her arms still outstretched, a big smile spreading across her face.

“She wants you to pick her up.” Ichigo said, sighing. Why the smallest and probably most vulnerable of the little kitsune spirits had attached herself to one of the most violent people he knew, he didn’t have a clue. It’s not like Grimmjow would hurt her unprovoked, especially since she was so weak, but he was still pretty unpredictable in every sense of the word.

Then Grimmjow did something that surprised both Ichigo and Urahara. Swiveling her back around in his lap, and grabbing her around her sides, he swept the little spirit up, her translucent tail flicking back and forth, and set her down on his shoulders. She immediately buried her hands in his hair. Ichigo gaped at the sight. Oh sure, he couldn’t touch his hair without getting bitten, but he’d let a strange little spirit he just met do it no problem. How was that fair? The bastard.

“Cut it out kid, it’s attached,” he grumbled, but did nothing otherwise. So there he sat, arms crossed defiantly, with the most adorable child-spirit-kitsune-thing Ichigo had ever seen on his shoulders, little leg on each side of his neck. Her pawed-feet barely touched his chest. Where were all the adult spirits? Did they exist, or was every spirit this small and utterly adorable? Ichigo noticed the tanuki boy, who was still standing stiffly in the same spot, turn to the sight of the little girl sitting on the shoulders of a very large and intimidating man, and bristle.

“Mei-Mei, that’s not safe!” The tanuki looked between Grimmjow, Urahara, Ichigo, and finally at the orange ball, which he was eyeing with a horrible hidden interest.

“The elders say we’re not to interact with humans!” His tail flicked once, when one of the boy kits swatted the ball across the ground, bouncing it off a nearby root.

The Kit on Grimmjow’s shoulders just laughed, her voice light and soft, like little bells tinkling among the slight breeze. He wrapped a hand around her little leg and shook it a little, a small smile tucking back the corner of his lips. She laughed again, fingers still running through the arrancar's untamed hair, messing it up even more. Ichigo just watched the pair, a little bit of jealousy coiling in his stomach. _Where’s that coming from?_

“Where are the elder spirits?” Urahara asked the tanuki, halfheartedly trying to grab back his fan, which was being beat into the dirt by one particularly rough spirit—the brown haired one. The tanuki shifted, uncomfortable. In front of Ichigo, Mei-Mei laughed again, grabbing onto Grimmjow’s ears and pulling. He flicked her fingers and told her to stop, but she only pulled harder. Ichigo couldn’t believe how gentle the arrancar was being with her—didn’t realize he could be that gentle with anything. Would he ever want to be that gentle with anyone else, or was his small reserve of gentility going to be used up on the little Kitsune spirit? In a small moment of weakness he allowed himself, Ichigo certainly hoped not.

“They’re on the other side,” he said simply, adjusting his belt. Urahara nodded like he understood completely. Ichigo could never tell when he was faking it or when he actually knew what hell was going on at any given time.

“I see.”

“We…we like to come here to play,” he continued. “Humans don’t come here anymore…at least…” The boy looked between the three men, eyeing Grimmjow suspiciously, girl still on his shoulders, hands combing through his unruly hair.

“Until now,” Urahara finished for him. The tanuki nodded, shifting his weight between his feet. Ichigo watched Grimmjow untangle the only female kitsune—Mei-Mei—from his hair and set her down with the others. She clambered over to where they were playing with the ball and sat atop a raised rhizome, squinting at quick orange movements, eyes fixed on the ball. Sitting forward on her little paws, she leaned in closer, closer, her tail wiggling back and forth until it was almost vibrating. Then she pounced, kicking one of the boys in the head and clawing at another. Grabbing the ball in her mouth, she squeezed her needle-like teeth into the rubber surface, popping it like a balloon.

“Mei-Mei!” the boy scolded her, tripping over to her and dragging her away from the other boys who were all growling furiously, teeth exposed. She growled back; the sound muffled by the limp rubber hanging from her mouth. _What a little demon_ , Ichigo thought. Grimmjow chuckled. No wonder she liked him; they were basically two peas in a damned pod.

“Gira, Kotori, Jiro, Kame, Shimetama, Fumio, Ren, Hiroyuki, Tetsuo, Mei-Mei,” a voice boomed, echoing around and in Ichigo’s head. That had come from the shrine, hadn’t it? From _inside_. All the kits stood quickly, scrambling around, tails fuzzed.

“That’s the elder! We must leave!” the tanuki boy said, bowing slightly, wide eyed and frantic. He dropped the little girl and one by one, each spirit turned into a colored ball of light. Yellow, red, green, blue, purple, white, orange, all swirling around above their heads with dizzying speed. One by one, each little orb shot into the darkness of the shrine; after the last light vanished into it, the once limp and hanging door slammed shut. The tree seemed to shrink in on itself, leaves swirling around the shrine, dead leaves dancing around their feet. 

The men were left alone among the contorted and crooked root system, shrine closed from the inside, empty air between them.

 _Guess that’s that, then_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group makes their way back to Urahara's shoten, tired and a little confused. It was dark by now, and all Ichigo wanted to do was go home. But first, he had a couple of very important questions for the blue haired arrancar.

They left soon after the spirits disappeared into the shrine, Ichigo trying not to sulk most of the way back. He _still_ didn’t manage to get his hands on the little female kit—he just wanted to pet her hair! And now she was gone forever inside a dead tree or some shit. Leaving Grimmjow the only one who had any positive contact with her. He felt along the still red bite marks from both sharp toothed demons.

Urahara seemed convinced the disturbances he’d heard about were nothing but the mischievous little Kitsune’s playing around. Who Urahara had heard that from, Ichigo was sure he didn’t want to know.

“It’s what they’re known for, after all~~” Ichigo groaned. It was dark by the time they reached the shoten, and he was about ready to rip his feet off and beat himself to death with them. He walked way too much today—tomorrow he wasn’t getting out of bed until at _least_ eight. _What a waste_. Thinking about the adorable little kitsune girl he didn’t get to hold, he shrugged. _Okay, maybe not a total waste._

He was still a little peeved she liked Grimmjow better than him. _Grimmjow_. Had he even been around children before? Ichigo wasn’t counting Nel, since she was actually a grown woman who happened to be in a child’s body every once in a while. And this one didn’t even _talk_. Just made little sounds every now and then. Mostly she just stared and bit people, the little brat.

Grimmjow hadn’t said much on the journey back either, mostly he just kicked some rocks around and looked bored as hell again, like the most exciting part of his day was the bratty little fox spirit. Ichigo thought about offering to fight him, just so he could look at at least a _little_ more interested, but the call of his soft bed was a little stronger. Half the time, he wouldn’t shut up about wanting to fight him, stab him, cut him into pieces, but now one adorably weird little spirit had completely thrown him for a loop. He didn’t want to admit the attention the little girl got from the man was just a _little_ bit irritating. Grimmjow was _never_ that nice to him.

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair, spiking it back and messing it up even further, not that anyone would notice.

“What do you think she wanted?” Ichigo asked absently, standing in front of the shoten doors. Urahara had went inside a few minutes ago, bagging the last-minute purchase of candy he was getting for Karin, trying to buy her love. _Man, periods must really suck_.

Grimmjow leaned against the wall, moonlight reflecting off his eyes, making them shine. Jacket open, jumpsuit unzipped low, he pulled out a carton of cigarettes, plucked one out and lit it up. That was another bad habit he didn’t want to deal with, but whatever. _Who even told him about smoking?_ Ichigo wanted to hunt whoever that was down and strangle them.

It was probably Renji, getting back at him for when Ichigo gave him taiyaki filled with siracha and homemade hot sauce Yuzu made with those really hot peppers. He snickered, remembering tears streaming down his face when he started chewing. The red-head deserved it for filling every pair of shoes he owned with toothpaste the last time he visited. But when Renji had made friends with the arrancar, he didn’t know either. _Guess he’s letting everyone closer except me,_ he thought with a frown. Whatever, he’d get to him eventually.

“Not you.” Grimmjow quipped, grinning and blowing out smoke right in Ichigo’s face. Irritation rising, Ichigo snatched the cigarette from between his lips and threw it on the ground. The arrancar shot him a glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Crushing the death stick under his heal, “And where the hell do you keep getting these? Smoking will kill you.” He tried to grab the pack from Grimmjow, but the man just maneuvered around him, back sliding against the wall.

“Tch, you stupid or somethin’?” Palm on Ichigo’s face, holding him back, carton held high above blue hair, out of Ichigo’s reach for sure. Ichigo pooled as much spit as he could in his mouth before licking the offending hand, dragging a thick line across the arrancar’s palm. Grimmjow made a startled noise and flinched his hand away, wiping it on his pantleg, snarl on his face.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Ichigo gave him a cocky smile. At least he was talking to him again. Maybe his weirdness had finally left. Due to his studying, Ichigo had missed more than one of their weekly fights recently, and he could tell it was getting to the other man. Hell it got to Ichigo as well, but if he wanted to actually participate in the human world as a _human_ then he couldn’t slack. Medical school was a pain in the ass.

“The littlest kits are known for playing favorites.” Urahara said, opening the shop door once more, holding a large back of chocolate and assorted candies. Ichigo gawked at it.

“I just wanted chocolate for Karin not your whole damn stock. How do you know so much about this stuff anyway? Didn’t you grow up in the Soul Society?” Ichigo asked, taking the small bag offered to him.

“Ah~ I’m a man of many talents.” Ichigo scoffed. “And tell Karin it’s to help her get better. Hopefully your father will have procured the proper pain pills by now.” Ichigo rolled his eyes. Of course he knew about Karin and her cramps because his dumbass father didn’t keep anything to himself, and the shopkeeper would ask about every damned detail of their lives. He probably knew the color of Ichigo’s boxers right now.

“An’ all of those talents are gross,” Grimmjow added, rolling his eyes, hiding his pack before Urahara could say something, not that he didn’t crinkle up his nose and sniff the air before he half-turned around. Ichigo snorted, at least they could both agree on that.

“Grimmjow if you step inside with those horrible nicotine rolls, I will flay you like a fish and have Tessai cook you for dinner tomorrow.” Ichigo choked, Grimmjow just growled at Urahara who was holding out his hand. He watched in silent awe as the arrancar picked out the pack from his pocket and begrudgingly handed it to the shopkeeper. _Urahara probably just wanted to smoke them himself,_ Ichigo thought. The shopkeeper went inside, fingers curled tightly around the cigarettes, and closed the door, leaving Ichigo and Grimmjow alone outside once more. The arrancar raised a hand and flipped off the door, like it could send the obscene gesture to the shopkeeper. 

“Was her hair very soft?” Ichigo asked after a couple minutes of silence had passed. He should really get going, but he kind of liked being around Grimmjow when he wasn’t being a bastard. Oh what the hell, he liked being around him period, bastard or not. When he wasn’t being violent, his personality was kinda refreshing in his straightforwardness. Not that he’d be letting _him_ in on that little secret.

“What?”

“Her hair. When you pet her, was it soft?” it was a dumb question, and Ichigo knew it. “I was able to touch one of the boy’s tails, but it wasn’t soft. And her tail wasn’t when she wacked me with it, but was her hair any different?” Grimmjow looked at him like he was the stupidest person he’d ever seen. Ichigo was starting to believe him. The arrancar furrowed his brows and opened his mouth, then he shut it. The ginger just watched as Grimmjow composed and decomposed himself in front of him with a raised eyebrow. Finally, he spoke, snarl on his face, fangs glinting in the night’s light.

“ _That’s_ what’s got your panties in a fuckin’ knot?”

Ichigo blinked at him. _What?_ Ichigo hadn’t been acting any differently, had he? Grimmjow was the one who was all weird on the way back. Ichigo had just figured it was because of the little fox spirit, and said nothing, leaving him to mope by himself. It’s what _Ichigo_ would have wanted anyway, but Grimmjow definitely wasn’t Ichigo. Besides, even if he _was_ moping, he could damn well do it without consent from the ex-espada.

“Grimmjow, what are you talking about?” The other man just growled and ran a hand through his hair.

“Bein’ all scowly an’ silent—"

“I wasn’t being—"

“Eyein’ that fox brat—”

“I was just—"

Grimmjow got right in Ichigo’s face, blue eyes blazing into his soul through his eyes, had Grimmjow ever been that close? He had a really faint scar under his eyebrow—what could _that_ be from? Ichigo raised up his hand, wanting to feel it—would it feel any different? His skin looked even more pale in the moonlight. Sometimes scars felt softer, this one looked old, how long had he had it?

Grimmjow saw his hand coming up to his face, grabbed his wrist, and bit down, right in the spot the girl had, where he had first. Ichigo growled in pain, swinging his fist, aiming for a temple, but Grimmjow blocked, grabbing his other hand from his mouth.

_“Fuck_ _you Kurosaki._ ”

“Grimmjow what—” Grimmjow let got of his hands with a small shove, unsteadying Ichigo who had dropped his bag of chocolate. Spinning on his heel, he slid through the doorway, and slammed the door in Ichigo’s face. “…the fuck?”

He heard a soft click of the lock from inside, his signal to go away. What the hell was that all about? Where did all that nonsense come from? Looking at the door for another minute, Ichigo shook his head and picked up Karin’s candy which he dropped when he tried to punch Grimmjow.

Not knowing what else to do, Ichigo started on his way home, head overflowing with questions. Mainly, what in the absolute _fuck_ was Grimmjow’s problem?

\-----------------------------------

What an absolute _fuckin’_ idiot that Kurosaki was. He’d spent the whole walk back moping around, after not getting out of his dumb human house for _two fuckin’ weeks_ , and all he cared about was the fox kid that crawled all over Grimmjow? He wanted know about her _hair?_ _Why?_ She wasn’t anything special. Just another brat he delt with. The only difference was she was a bit smaller than what he was used to, so he tried to use a little more care. He’d never hear the end of it from Kiskue if he broke her.

Hair was hair, right? Her hair felt like any other hair. Little shit damn near yanked out a handful of his though. Her grip was hella strong.

Though, it was kinda funny that little fucker wouldn’t let Ichigo near; funny and troublesome. Grimmjow smirked at the thought, leaning his back against the door. He could hear Ichigo’s footsteps disappearing in the distance, reiatsu fading somewhat. The bite he’d got on him this time drew blood, flicking his tongue across his lips, he tasted good too. Rubbing his mask, he hoped it would scar, and that he wouldn’t get that woman to heal it for him like a little bitch.

The ginger looked like he _really_ wanted to get his hands on the kid for whatever reason, even after she bit him! He’d just hit Grimmjow him when he’d bitten him, and would probably bitch at him for a week afterward, if he even saw the orange haired bastard for a while. He’d cancelled on their last fight, but he’d go out searching for weird little spirits with Kiskue? Fuck yeah, he was going to tag along; maybe he could goad the other into a fight on the way. But the damned shopkeeper made him stay in his pudgy human skin, which meant disappointment. At least the ginger smelled good in that skin. His Shinigami form didn’t really have a smell.

Grimmjow grumbled all the way to his back bedroom, barely glancing at the two shoten brats playing some game with cards on his way. He just wanted to sleep, something he did more of now that he wasn’t looking over his shoulder every waking moment of the day. Opening up the door, he just stood and stared into his room. A little wooden end table sat at the side at head of the bed, with small trinkets and objects that had caught his eye during his time in the human world. Half of it was just random objects Kurosaki had thrown at him during one of their 'couples spats', as Kiskue called them. Pervert. A small dull knife, particularly sharp shards of glass, a seashell, a marble the color of his eyes...the list went on of the useless human garbage. The seashell was his favorite, and Grimmjow had refused to give it back.

“Did Ichigo blow you off again?” a voice from behind him said. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and looked towards the boy. He’d gotten taller the two years he’d been going back and forth, red hair getting longer, and all swept back. The girl was behind him, black hair let down, fuzzy purple pants with weird flowers on them. He didn’t know what he did to deserve being pestered by these two right now—Grimmjow swore they shared one braincell between them. He didn’t even say anything to them as he walked by. Did they say something to him he didn’t hear? Impossible, his hearing was excellent. There was no way he wouldn’t have heard it.

“What are you talkin’ about now?” Rubbing his eyes with one hand, couldn’t he just have one moment of peace in his house?

“You seem sad.” Grimmjow looked up at the cobwebbed ceiling and grimaced. Sad? Where had the brat gotten that idea from? He felt a lot of things, but sadness wasn’t really one of them.

“Tch, what makes you think that?”

“You’re frowning,” the girl said, looking at him with big doe eyes. How she’d managed to land a hit on one of his fraccions, he’d never know.

“I’m always frowning.” What was his life even, now that he had the two brats at the shoten worrying over him like little hens. As irritating as it was, he didn’t completely hate it. He figured it meant someone gave a shit about him, at least.

"Not when Ichigo is around, you're not." Grimmjow leveled a look at the boy, one that said _change the subject or you're getting some new teeth._ The kid stiffened and changed his tune a little.

“Fine, you’re moping then.” That was Jinta, arms crossed and glaring at him, trying act tough. Grimmjow remembered when he came to him of all people, nearly crying tears of joy because Yuzu had given him a compliment, and snorted at him, earning a curious look from the boy; why did this house have to be so closely linked with Kurosaki’s? It was bullshit.

“Am not.”

“Are too!” Grimmjow gave up; it wasn’t worth fighting them. They could think whatever they wanted; he didn’t give a shit.

“Whatever brat. Go back to playing cards. I wanna sleep.” He said, pushing on Jinta’s red head gently. If anyone ever saw how unguarded he was with these two punks, someone would be dying. If Grimmjow wouldn’t die of embarrassment first.

They grumbled a little, but turned and walked back down the hall, shooting a look over their shoulders before they were out of sight. Shutting the door, he walked and sat on his bed, picking up the seashell between his fingers. It fit in his palm without hanging off, a small chip on one side from where it had knocked against him when Ichigo threw it.

_“You bastard!” Ichigo yelled, running after Grimmjow who had stolen his wooden battle pass, fight way past ended, but the arrancar still had a too much energy. He knew Ichigo could get back in his skin, but there was no way he could get it back using his soft human body. A wolfish grin spreading across Grimmjow’s face, he used sonido to race away from him._

_Ichigo had caught up to him moments later, the quick bastard, and they wrestled on the ground of the training bunker for it. He had his foot on Ichigo’s stomach, the ginger’s hand was pulling his jacket. Both of their swords had been swept to the side in favor of hand to hand combat. Wooden pass between his teeth, Grimmjow used his hands to pinch the skin of Ichigo’s hand and shove him back a few feet. He growled softly, grinning as best he could at the fuming soul reaper. The arrancar saw a blurred hand cock back and throw something, a sharp, cold object hitting his forehead. He dropped the pass from his mouth._

_“Ouch you shithead!”_

_“That didn’t hurt and you know it, dumbass.”_

_Grimmjow glared and looked down to what hit him. A circle-ish shaped, thin…thing. It had raised ridges, all meeting at a point on the base, different shades of brown and pink on one side, and white when he flipped it over. Picking it up, he rubbed a finger on the white side, feeling how smooth it was._

_“The fuck is this?”_

_“It’s a seashell.” Grimmjow looked at him blankly. Trying to force Ichigo into seeing the error of his ways. What the fuck was a seashell?_

_Ichigo walked up to him and grabbed the pass near his feet, glaring at him and wiping it off on his shihaksho. Grimmjow absently scratched the spot on his forehead the weird shell had made contact, other hand still wrapped around it. It felt like a piece was missing out of the edge beneath his fingers._

_Ichigo tried to pry his fingers open, getting at the smooth object._

_“Oi, what the fuck you think you’re doin’.”_

_“Gimme that back.” Grimmjow curled his fingers as tight as he could around the shell without breaking it. Ichigo tried to use both hands to pry his open, bringing his hand towards the others chest; if he had a heart, it would’ve skipped a beat at the contact._

_“I don’t fuckin’ think so. You threw it at me; it’s mine now.”_

Grimmjow grinned at the memory, turning the seashell over in his hands. They fought again after that, over the dumb little shell—a fight Grimmjow had won, leaving Kurosaki on his back in the dirt, panting and groaning like an idiot. Ichigo had said it was for one of his sisters, but he didn’t care. He’d won it fair and square; it was _his,_ Ichigo could get them a different one. 

He put the shell back on the end table and lay down in the bed, arms crossed behind his head. Briefly, he thought about changing, but decided against it. It wasn’t like he was dirty anyway, he could sleep in clothes every once in a while. As his eyes drifted closed, he caught a glimpse of white out of the corner of his eye. Probably just the moonlight reflecting off something. Piece of glass he’d kept or some shit, probably. He shrugged it off and closed his eyes completely, trying to relax the tension out of his body. Maybe he’d get his fight from Kurosaki tomorrow. He could always just barge into his house; he’d done it before. It scared the shit out of his old man, remembering how he emitted a sound that could shatter glass.

Grinning, Grimmjow decided that was a good idea.

He’d do that tomorrow.

\-----------------------------

Grimmjow woke up to a warm weight on his chest. That didn’t seem right. Did Yoruichi get drunk and wander into the wrong room in her cat form again? Last time that happened, she’d puked all over his floor. He’d locked his door faithfully after that, but couldn’t remember if he did so last night. Kiskue needed to keep a better eye on his nutcase woman. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked down.

A pair of light blue eyes were staring back at him, swirling red energy in little ear shapes perked up, tail flicking back and forth before curling around her.

The little fox girl.

Grimmjow groaned.

No. Not this shit again. She was supposed to be in that big-ass tree, wasn’t she? Didn’t her ball of light follow the others? Grimmjow couldn’t remember—he was too busy glaring at Ichigo for acting like a little bitch.

He watched as she settled back down on his zippered chest, head tucked on top of her tail. He was glad he slept with his jumpsuit closed for once—little fucker probably would’ve burrowed inside it like a damned parasite, the beast. He usually slept naked, and _shit,_ that would’ve been embarrassing.

Thinking about what had Kurosaki’s mind all dumbed out yesterday, he reached down and scratched his fingers across her scalp a couple times, feeling her hair. She closed her eyes completely, a content sigh escaping her lips.

Grimmjow still didn’t get it, hair just felt like hair. Nothing special about it. Maybe it felt different without hierro? Who the fuck cared. A small snore came from her a minute later. _Fuckin’ great._

Now what was he supposed to do? When did she even get here, anyway? He studied her while she slept against him, curled up in a tight little ball. Hand still absently scratching her hair, he looked at her small paws, where her hands or feet or something, should have been.

They were furred in black, except for the tips, which were a reddish, orange color. It looked like she was wearing the same clothing she had on as yesterday. Grimmjow noticed the holes in the draping sleeves, like she had poked her claws through them more than once. Remembering how aggressive she was with that orange ball Kiskue had yesterday, he grinned. That had been funny. The other little foxes weren’t expecting her to do that, and they certainly didn’t like it when she kicked them. She had a little bit of fight in her, even if she wasn’t even the size of his arm. 

He crossed his arms over the kit as carefully as he could and sat up; she didn’t stir a bit. Had she been here the whole night? Did she follow him? Was she alone, or did she drag all the other little spirits with her? That would be a damn mess. Crossing the room and opening the door, he walked out of his room, aiming to find the only person who could probably do anything remotely useful about this issue. Surely, he would know how to get rid of her.

He found Kiskue in the kitchen, drinking coffee he probably spiked. He choked a little when he saw the girl cradled between the strong arms of the arrancar.

“Oh dear,” was all he said. Grimmjow sighed at the response, his exhale ruffling the kit’s hair slightly beneath him.

“What the fuck do I do now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Chapter 2! This one is a little bit shorter. I'll try to get the next chapter out by Wednesday, and if I'm productive enough, finish it this coming weekend? We shall see!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo wakes up to several missed messages from none other than the irritating shopkeeper himself. What could he possibly want this early in the morning, a day where Ichigo was supposed to relax and study. And what is Grimmjow's problem?

Ichigo woke up at six-thirty in the damned morning with seven missed calls and twice as many texts from Hat and Clogs. Most of them were emoji’s he tried to decipher like hieroglyphs, but literally none of them made any sense, except two—a cat and knife. _That’s obviously Grimmjow._

Instead of calling Urahara back like the smart man in pre-med school would do, he sat on his bed for a half an hour squinting at his phone, trying to figure out the different pictograms like a moron who didn’t get enough sleep. Instincts and common sense were two very different things, he’d come to realize. He reached over to his desk, trying to find his glasses. Kon was snoring beside him, still asleep. Ichigo hoped he stayed that way for a little while; he always made fun of him when he had to wear his glasses to see his phone. He couldn’t help it seeing close up was a pain in the ass.

Once he found them, he pushed them onto his face and got to work decrypting Urahara’s dumb messages, square black frames resting on the bridge of his nose. Fox face, firecracker, present, uhhhh…. honey pot, cupcake, some kind of…amoeba, cactus, pretzel…what the _hell?_ The list of weird things went on for like two pages. None of that made any sense. If Urahara would just chill out like a normal person, he wouldn’t have a headache coming on this early in the morning.

He had to call him then, there was no other choice. If he wasn’t going to use his words, then Ichigo would…he didn’t know, to be honest. _It’s not like I could beat the answer out of him_. _He’d probably just turn to mush and reappear somewhere worse and twice as annoying._ The phone rang twice before it was picked up, some kind of uproar in the background, a crashing sound, Jinta yelling. To be honest, the chaos sounded pretty normal to Ichigo.

“Ah, hello dear Ichigo, it took you quite a while to respond~” Urahara sing-songed into his ear, apparently not concerned in the slightest. Was there an emergency or not? He couldn’t be mysterious _and_ nonchalant, that wasn’t fair.

“What’s going on?” Cursing in the background this time, sounded like Grimmjow. Yoruichi was laughing—definitely a red flag if he ever heard one waving.

“Well, we’ve got a…situation. Come over as quickly as you can. Bring your friends!” Ichigo felt himself age a few years at the declaration. If something required his whole friend group, he was going to walk into a mess.

“You’re definitely not my favorite person today,” he said sighing, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eyes. Maybe he could just go back to bed and forget all of this ever happened. Say Kon had answered the phone—he could do a pretty good impression of his voice.

“Oh Ichigo, I’m not your favorite person on any day~” _That was probably true._

“Wait Uraha—”

 _Aaaaand he hung up on me._ Bastard. Had Grimmjow lost his mind and started attacking? _Doubt it._ If he was going to attack Urahara, he would’ve done it by now. What about Tessai? He was a damn master of Kido, why couldn’t they just have him fix it instead of dragging Ichigo into their self-made mess, he was sure. And why bring his friends? Why were things that bad they needed the whole gang? _Shit Urahara, what did you do?_ This was last Halloween all over again. If Yoruichi was drunk when he got there, he was never going back. She had licked his face twice the last time, and Grimmjow refused to talk to him for two whole weeks. That was the only time Grimmjow tapped out of fighting him, the dipshit.

It was way too early for any actual thinking, so he tried to call Chad first. No answer. _That’s weird_. He usually always answered when Ichigo called. Okay, well then Orihime was next. No answer from her either, but that was less surprising. She may be still asleep. Uryu? Okay, he didn’t answer either, but knowing him, he probably ignored it on purpose. Ichigo zipped through his phone, looking for their group-chat. Finding it, he typed out a message:

_Urahara’s ASAP. Something happened._

There, that should set a fire under their asses. 'Urahara' and 'happened' in the same sentence was never a good thing. Satisfied with his message he got up and grabbed some clothes from his closet, settling into a faster version of his morning routine.

\---------------------

By the time Ichigo left the house, it was seven. _So much for sleeping in_ , he grumbled out loud to himself, walking quickly down the street to the shoten. The closer he got to Urahara’s, the more worried about what was going on he got. Should he be in his Shinigami form? The man hadn’t said, but did he imply it? Running through the stupid emoji’s he’d sent again, he didn’t see anything hinting at needing his other form. Unless that’s what the whole row of cupcakes had been in Urahara’s ninth message, the big weirdo. He made a ten-minute trip in five, by cutting through some back streets and running. _Good thing I don’t need the exercise, you bastard._

When he got to the door, he stopped to see if he could hear anything from inside. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was unlocked though, so he went inside. Toeing off his shoes before the entrance to the house part of the shop, he noticed a few familiar extra pairs. His friends must’ve gotten his message.

“Oh come in, dear Ichigo,” came Urahara’s voice through the door, “Did you bring your friends?”

Ichigo stopped and looked at the shoes again.

“Uhhh, aren’t they in there with you?” Why wasn’t he going in yet, why was he just standing outside like a dumbass?

“Oh they’re here, I was just wondering if you had any other friends~” he heard Urahara laugh from the other side. Ah, so he was just being a dick then. _I should just go home, that would show him._ Instead, ignoring his little mind voice, he opened up the wooden door to the house part of the shoten, and stopped, mouth hanging agape.

_What. The. Hell._

Eight little fox spirits scuttling around the room, getting into every conceivable crevice and causing complete chaos. Couch cushions had been ripped from their home and into a little triangle formation, paper streamers everywhere. The table was upside down. Jinta was chasing the violent brown-haired one with a broom because he was a little _shit_. Fox looked delighted though, so maybe Ichigo would just leave it be.

His friends were sitting around the upturned low table on the tatami mats, pieces of paper streamers around their legs. Orihime was squeezing one between her breasts, nearly suffocating the kit, she was having a blast it looked like. Three little spirits were playing what looked like tag around Chad and Uryu who looked like they were rolling with the punches and about to have an aneurism respectively. When one of the foxes skittered across Uryu’s lap, Ichigo could’ve sworn the kit purposely knocked his glasses off with its tail, much to his delight. Yoruichi had one swinging from her arm as she sat cross-legged next to Urahara on a mat; Tessai no-where to be seen. Each of them were making chittering sounds, but they all sounded like happy noises.

Ururu was brushing the one with a purple kimono while, and another two were circling around a very irritated individual. At the center of it all, sat Grimmjow, who looked like he was about ready to kill something. Or die. Or both. Possessive little fox spirit girl sleeping soundly on his lap, just like yesterday. Ichigo glared at her just a little, not that she would notice. Grimmjow caught him looking at the kit and glared back.

Sighing at the arrancar, Ichigo shut the door to the candy shop. If they got in there, he could only imagine how much worse they would be hyped up on candy. He looked at Urahara, who had produced another orange ball and was letting another spirit Ichigo hadn’t noticed play with it--the tanuki boy. The only spirit who had an ounce of calmness in him; he just sat quietly patting it between his two paws, watching it in half-concealed delight. Ichigo just looked at the shopkeeper and gaped, not really knowing what to ask, or where to begin.

“Oh Ichigo, aren’t they just so cute?” Orihime squealed, squishing the poor spirit even further into her ample chest. He almost felt bad for the kid, watching her rub her face all over him. His paws were flying in all directions, not quite knowing where to put them. They finally settled on her face, little paw pads smooshing into the woman’s cheeks, causing her to laugh, eyes twinkling. She didn't mind a damn bit about the claws. 

“Orihime, if you keep it up, I’m afraid he’ll scratch you.” Uryu said, adjusting his glasses, watching as his girlfriend either didn’t hear him, or absolutely ignored him. Orihime squeezed the spirit harder, causing a small squeak to come out of its mouth. Uryu lightly touched one elbow, trying to get her attention. _She keeps him on his toes, for sure,_ Ichigo thought, a small smile on his lips. How they worked, he wasn’t sure, but they were both happy, and that’s all he cared about. Healing after the war had taken them on many different roads, and he was glad their was the same one. They deserved to be happy. Ichigo's eyes flicked once to Grimmjow, watching as he growled at one of the kits dancing around him. 

Chad so far, seemed content to just observe, though Ichigo did notice the slight smile when his friend was able to pat one of fox’s heads as it ran across his folded legs. The fox stopped and looked at him, at his big hand, and patted it, like it was asking for more scratches. He happily obliged, scratching behind a fuzzy ear with one finger.

“Fuckers,” he heard Grimmjow hiss. Turning to face the arrancar, Ichigo tried to fight back a smile. One of the little boys was trying to pull the girl—Mei-Mei’s—he reminded himself, her name was Mei-Mei, tail. Grimmjow, for all his aggression and…whatever, he was trying to keep a couple of bratty fox boys away from the little one sleeping soundly between his legs. Or maybe to stop them from tugging at his zipped down and jacket-less catsuit ensemble. _Honestly, of all the things he could wear, he went with a jumpsuit?_ Ichigo would’ve liked to know the though process behind that decision, but whatever. Now probably wasn’t the best time to ask about his fashion choices.

Sensing he found the reason why Urahara had called him so many times, he turned from the shopkeeper and went to Grimmjow, sitting beside him, well within reaching distance of Mei-Mei. He held out his hands to one of the boys, offering his lap to them. They looked at him for a minute, before turning and running over to Uryu, trying to snatch his glasses. Uryu spouted some nonsense about _the indignity of it all,_ when one little pawed hand was able to snag them off his face. Mirroring how the Quincy had them on his face, the fox put them on, and promptly ran into the table leg sticking straight up in the air.

Ichigo noticed their ears and tails were fully materialized today, not twisting masses of shaped colored energy. They were all pretty similar, except for the very tip, being a different color. Black, brown, silver, white, and orange were all the ones he could see from his current seat, looking over at Mei-Mei, her tail was still very spectral, red energy swirling slowly. Maybe it's an age thing? _She does look like the smallest spirit here._

“So uh…” he started dumbly, looking at Grimmjow, “What’s happening?” He could’ve sworn he saw Girmmjow’s eye twitch the second after he asked.

“What the fuck does it look like’s happening?” he growled out lowly, not bothering to turn to look at Ichigo. Mei-Mei decided she would wake up that very moment, right as Ichigo was reaching out a hand to pet her. She shifted in Grimmjow’s lap and looked directly at Ichigo, lip crinkling up in a snarl. _Oh shit._ He slowly dropped his hand; the bite still hurt from yesterday, but that was mainly from the abuse Grimmjow had given him before he left. He’d put a band aid on it last night, but it came off sometime during the night; with any luck it would be permanently stuck on his chatty mod-soul roommate’s mouth. If he heard Kon talk about ' _gettin’ on them titties'_ one more time, Ichigo was going to light him on fire, bake his ashes in a cake, and feed it to Urahara.

Breaking eye contact with the girl, he sat back down on his heels, waiting to see what she would do. Sneaking a glance at Grimmjow, who was staring at him with teeth bared, Ichigo’s stomach dropped. _Looks like he’s still pretty pissed._ He needed to talk to him, but how? With all these foxes running around and Mei still sitting in his lap like a damned statue, that would be impossible. She'd claw his eyes out the first chance she got, Ichigo just knew it. All this fuss over a little fox spirit? And what did Grimmjow have to be pissed about anyway? It wasn’t like Ichigo was trying to pet _him._ Even if he wanted to, he’d just bite him again, anyway, touchy bastard.

The female kit twitched he head around, and looked around the room, like she’d never seen it before, despite Ichigo thinking she’d been here for at least a little bit. Her eyes widened as her mouth dropped slightly, letting out a small sound of surprise.

“Watch the claws, kid,” Grimmjow growled out beside him. Ichigo watched as she fisted her paw-hands into his pantlegs, and relaxed; her gaze was fixed on something, eyes big and blue. Following her stare, or trying at least, it looked like she was staring at Orihime. Or rather, at her hair, swishing around as she wiggled around with another, different fox spirit shoved into her chest. _Uryu's big brain is gonna explode if she doesn't give it a rest._ But between Orihime and Tessai, he'd probably manage to live. Ichigo looked around for a second, looking for the imposing form with braids and glasses. 

“Where’s Tessai at, anyway? He’s usually lurking around here somewhere,” Ichigo asked, breaking his gaze away from Mei-Mei and Grimmjow, leveling it at Urahara who frowned at the question. Yoruichi snorted beside him, shoulders hunching over with laughter. Hopping around her laughing form was the fox spirit previously hanging on her arm, miming her laughter soundlessly. Urahara stared at the boy. 

“He’s having some…issues.” Ururu said, looking at Yoruichi.

“Issues?”

“Kiskue cooked last night,” the girl said, shrugging. Ichigo snorted.

“That guy is made of steel, what could you possible make to override that?” he asked the shopkeeper, eyebrows raised. Seriously, Tessai had never been down once in the time he’d known him. What did Urahara _do?_

“Some concoction from a can,” Grimmjow muttered beside him, turning his glare towards the man. Urahara glared right back.

“In some cultures, dear Grimmjow-san, they eat cats.”

“Not from a can I bet,” he sneered.

While they were having their…exchange, Ichigo shifted his eyes back to Mei-Mei who was wiggling around unnoticed in the arrancar’s lap. Eventually she poked her head out between his arm and leg, on Grimmjow's right side, next to Ichigo. Letting out a soft growl and snapping her teeth at him, he frowned at her. She still obviously hated him. Grimmjow flicked her ear.

“Quit it, brat.” She pouted, sticking her lip out again, but stopped growling. The glaring, however, only deepened.

Ichigo blinked, looking back to the ex-espada. He shifted his gaze away, but Ichigo could’ve sworn his ears were slightly pink. What was that about?

\------------------------------------

This whole situation was fuckin’ ridiculous. First it was the girl appearing on his chest sometime during the night; soon after her confronted Kiskue with her asleep in his arms, the others appeared. It was all they could do to trap them somewhat in the living room, the paper doors a shitty defense at protecting the rest of the house. As long as they didn’t get into Kiskue’s sugary shit at the front; Grimmjow would up and leave for Hueco Mundo the second they started chomping on any of that. He saw how hyper it made Jinta when he had too much; no way was he gonna stick around with eight foxes freaking the _fuck_ out over candy. Nope. No way. 

Then the damned shopkeeper decided to call Kurosaki and his merry band of dumbasses. They showed up about fifteen minutes before he did; the healing woman was thrilled. _Fuckin’ great, they can all stay with her._ Four-eyes wasn’t nearly as excited. If fact, he looked the opposite, as the girl kept smashing the different spirits between her boobs like some weird rite of passage. The tall, quiet guy was harder to get a read on, but he seemed fine enough. Tried to pet a stray head as it wandered by, other than that he sat pretty still, content to watch the disaster unfold into some kind of nightmare. 

One of the little fuckers found a box of paper things under the couch and proceeded to drag out every. Single. One. Ripping, tearing, biting, hell, even eating a couple of them before spitting them back up. All while the girl sat in his lap asleep. At least the other ones weren’t pestering him much anymore, with Kurosaki beside him. Maybe all of the foxes hated the bastard. _Must be his hair._ Absently, ignoring the situation as much as he could, he wondered if Kurosaki’s hair was soft. The guy always went on and on about it with the girl, but what about his. In their two years of sparring, Grimmjow had yet to grab any—palm his face a few times sure, but not actively running his fingers though his hair. Kurosaki had swiped through his a few times, and thought he didn't like it getting messed up, it always felt nice, even if the shinigami was a bit violent doing it.

Shaking out of his thoughts, at least that monster Tessai was out of commission for a while, thanks to Kiskue’s talent for fucking up every food he ever tried to prepare. Grimmjow would rather eat the can he got food out of instead of whatever horrible result he ended up with. Last night’s meal looked like worms baked in some kind of black and bloody sauce, judging by the dirty dishes he spotted in the sink that morning before the rest of the tailed beasts appeared.

Kurosaki sat next to him unmoving, but Grimmjow knew it was only to get to the little fuckface in his lap. He watched as she blew a small snot bubble front her nose and grimaced. Children of any kind were disgusting; why did she have to favor him of all people? She woke up when Kurosaki tried to pet her, the moron. It didn’t work out well the first time, why should it the second? He glared at his long fingers until he put them away. 

Looking down, he watched the girl shimmy out between his arm and leg on the side Ichigo sat on, bearing her teeth and looking like she was going to lunge. Daring a glance at the substitute Shinigami, he looked so pathetic with his big brown eyes and stupid frowny face. Grimmjow caught a glimpse of his hand, which still had bite marks on it—so he didn’t get the woman to jinx it away! Or even his weird father who knew some healing spells himself. Finally, a mark he made stayed, _'bout damn time._ He’d been trying to mark him up for _fuckin years_ and it was a bite to the hand that did it? Hell, he should’ve done that first.

The kid growled again, a high sound, definitely not threatening. Grimmjow raised a hand and flicked across a spectral ear lightly.

“Quit it, brat.” He didn’t know why he did it, all it would do is make Ichigo pay attention to her more, but as he watched him, Kurosaki watched him back, eyes a little wider than usual, his defensive and frowny face gone. Grimmjow snorted and turned away. Whatever; it’s not like it was a big deal. If she sat on him, and growled every time Ichigo tried to get near him, he'd never get close. 

The girl wiggled out of his grasp completely then, and faced Ichigo. For a second, he thought she was gonna hop right in the Shinigami’s lap. _Tch, at least you two will be happy with each other._ But when she immediately turned and flung herself directly at the healer woman’s hair, trying to tangle herself in it, Grimmjow barked out an unexpected laugh. Boobs didn’t look like the kit was pulling hard; instead she wrapped her puffy sleeved arms around the little girl and squeezed her as she’d done with all the others, hair still tangled around the kit’s arms. Kurosaki looked like he was gonna mope a bit more like a dumbass, before his face brightened. Grimmjow could almost see the dim lightbulb flicker over his dumb head. 

“Orihime can you watch her for a bit?” Kurosaki said suddenly beside him.

“Of course!” she said, hugging the little girl tightly. Mei-Mei looked like she enjoyed it well enough, the way she was smiling and bouncing all over the woman.

Ichigo stood and grabbed a hold of on of Grimmjow's crossed arms, half way dragging him around the corner, away from the chaotic mess of spirits, but a couple of the boy foxes followed, much to his irritation. Grimmjow figured they were gonna have a ‘talk’, which always consisted of Kurosaki trying to say stupid shit to him and Grimmjow rolling his eyes and ignoring half the shit he said. The last one had been about...he didn't remember. Being nicer to the regular humans when he was in a gigai? He remembered punching some stree thug with a shaved head and sunglasses. Something dumb like that. He couldn't help it they wanted to fight him because of his hair. It was the after-talk he overheard with Kiskue that held his interest more. 

_"What? No," Ichigo had said to the shopkeeper, looking between the two. Grimmjow just rolled his eyes; it wasn't like it made a damn difference. He already tried to get out of wearing it as much as possible. It's not like changing one little thing would make him want to stay in it longer. He watched as Urahara walked into the next room. Grimmjow just sat down on the floor, laying his head back on the soft couch. Humans did have some nice things. Beds were a hell of a lot more comfortable. Food was nice too, unless Kiskue was trying to make it._

_He looked up at the white ceiling before closing his eyes. Doing stuff in his gigai made his actual body tired, maybe he could take a nap while they decided what to do with it._

_"Don't you think it would benefit him even a little?" Kurosaki huffed, crossing his arms like a child, and walked after the voice of the shopkeeper._

_"Changing his hair ain't gonna do a damn thing," he said. Grimmjow shook his head. At least they could agree on something._

_"Oh no?"_

_"He's over six feet tall and built like a brick shit house," he heard him say a little more quietly, "Hair color doesn't matter when his biceps are as big as my damn head." Grimmjow looked at the door. What the fuck did that mean? It felt like a compliment, but Kurosaki didn't compliment him. He looked down at his arms, sure he was muscular, but that was kind of an exaggeration, wasn't it?_

_"Oh ho ho! My dear Ichi--Ouch!" a smacking sound, then a door closing. The ginger must've hit him to shut him up, too bad it almost never worked. He'd have to ask about it later._

Ichigo flipped the two spirits off, knocking Grimmjow from his thoughts. He glared down at the hand on his arm, but let the ginger keep dragging towards his room. Grimmjow watched as the foxes mirrored the middle finger movements, smirking. _Probably shouldn’t have done that._

Once Grimmjow was led to his room by Kurosaki, door shut softly so as the others wouldn’t hear, he leaned against the wood, waiting for Ichigo to spit out whatever it was. He didn’t have to wait long. 

“What’s going on? Why are there so many spirits here? Did something happen at the shrine?” questions just tumbled out, one after the other. Grimmjow’s scowl deepened as he waited for the ginger to finish asking as more and more slipped off his tongue. _Spirit this. Fox that. Shrine, shrine, shrine. This shit’s getting’ real old._

“Fuck if I know,” he said finally, arms crossed across his chest, head leaned back against the door. He wanted a smoke, if only Kiskue hadn’t took’em all, the bastard. He just put them behind some jars in a cabinet in the kitchen. That's where he'd gotten them from anyway. Anything to keep Kurosaki from talking more about all the damned spirits.

“When did Mei-Mei get here?”

Grimmjow just shrugged, leveling a glare over at his knick-knack end table, past Kurosaki. Some of the glass was reflecting light onto the ceiling, creating a nice little mosaic pattern on the ceiling he could look at in favor of ignoring the ginger idiot.

He saw Ichigo shake his head, heard him sigh. His scent was even more clear in his room, everything smelled like Grimmjow in it except the one thing he wanted to smell like him the most. Glancing down at his hand again to the bite mark, he suddenly wished he’d bit him somewhere else.

Kurosaki wandered over to the little table and Grimmjow growled. Just ‘cause the Shinigami was in his room didn’t mean he could look at whatever he wanted. He was entitled to a little bit of privacy after all. Ichigo slowed his pace, but didn't stop.

“I threw this at you like, five months ago,” he said, holding up the seashell. Grimmjow’s eye twitched.

“And?” He hoped he didn’t sound quite as flustered as he was starting to feel. He never anticipated the Shinigami ever getting into his room so he never bothered hiding his junk. Now more than ever, he realized the last thing he wanted Kurosaki to see him as, was some sentimental weakling.

“And…hey, was this the marble I said looked like your eye color? How did you even _get_ this; I put it in _my_ pocket!”

What Kurosaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Grimmjow had found out quickly in the human world he could easily make a good pickpocket if he wanted too. Humans just usually didn’t have anything worth going after. Unless said human had stupid orange hair and was a permanent dumbass. He could feel his face heating up, just a little. He definitely should’ve hid that one. Besides, why would Ichigo even want a marble that was _his_ eye color. That didn't make any sense. 

Shuffling around the items on the end table, Grimmjow just stood on the other side of the room, letting Ichigo violate his privacy like an idiot. It was too late anyway, but he still wasn't going to get rid of any of it. 

“Is all of this just stuff I’ve thrown at you during a fight, why do you even bother keeping it?”

Grimmjow snorted.

“You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t keep," he said, leveling a glare at the ginger. Even if he _had_ gotten some of it by...questionable means, that was _his_ stuff now. Even if Ichigo was the one who gave him most of it. Grimmjow felt a knot twisting around inside him uncomfortably, as he tried not to shuffle his feet like a child that was caught doing something it shouldn't. Watching as the man turned over the shell to rub the smooth white side, he saw Kurosaki bite his bottom lip--he was thinking. _That's never a good sign._ Casting his eyes elsewhere, Grimmjow looked at his unmade bed, faint blue sheets with little white pinstripes on them wrinkled near the bottom edge. He'd have to make it later, even though he didn't remember actually getting under the covers the previous night. Maybe the girl had messed them up.

“I could give you something else, you know,” Grimmjow's gaze shot up to see a flustered looking Ichigo. “I mean, something else you’d maybe want instead, or…I mean…uh…” he trailed off, looking red. 

Grimmjow looked at the ginger in confusion. He didn’t know what Kurosaki could possibly think he wanted. Was he just going to hand him something instead of throwing it at him? _Tch._ Leave it to that idiot ginger to feel obligated to actually give him something on purpose; talk about embarrassing, but he supposed he could humor him once. It would only suck for a little while right? He’d just put it on the table with the rest of the junk Kurosaki had thrown at him and try to forget all about this weird interaction.

Sighing, he tried not to roll his eyes, and held out his hand, palm up.

 _Let’s get this over with_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof I've changed the ending so many times in my head already, but I think it should be all set? Who knows! TBH I don't really start out with a plot in mind; just like 'let's see where this goes!!'.  
> Also, "In some cultures they eat cats." "Not from a can I bet." Is a direct quote from....a Garfield comic. I remembered it and really, really wanted to use it because I thought it was funny. 
> 
> And I just read Kubo's new Burn the Witch one-shot and boiiii I'm excited for that!! The animation in the three episode animation is amazing as well!!!!  
> As always, Kudo's and comments are always appreciated:D:D:D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wait, Grimmjow wanted something right now? But he didn't have anything to give him! Unless...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little heavier on the introspection and angst, so just a forewarning!

“I could give you something else, you know,” Ichigo said, and Grimmjow snapped his head towards him, _Shit bad idea. Maybe? No. Ohmygod, ohmygod think damnit._

“I mean, something else you’d maybe want instead, or…I mean uh….” he trailed off, knowing otherwise he was going to say something dumb—he knew how his mouth worked, and it was seldom in his favor. This wasn’t his area of expertise, especially after the awkwardness that happened with Orihime, but thankfully she understood more than he ever had to say. Accepted him without a second thought too, even though he knew she was hurt. They had both moved past it, well, she had. Guilt still ran around in his head pretty often, but if he studied, or worked, or fought hard enough, it would quiet down for a time.

Looking at the end table again, he couldn’t believe Grimmjow kept all this stuff, and while it brought a certain tug of affection to his heart, it was also a little sad. Seashell, piece of teal colored glass, a particularly ugly rock he’d lobbed at blue hair when he wasn’t paying attention to him. Ichigo hadn’t thought too much about it, to be honest—had he known the arrancar was keeping such _little_ things, he could’ve done more. Ichigo didn’t even know Grimmjow had things. Well, not like _human_ items, he didn’t know what he collected in Hueco Mundo. Did Hueco Mundo even have like…stuff? He supposed there was more now at least, with whatever trading was going on? What did Hueco Mundo even have to trade? 

More importantly, did Grimmjow like gifts, or did he just like it because these were things that had memories of Ichigo attached to it? If the latter was true, what did that mean? Did Grimmjow…could he really…. And the _marble_. He’d held on to it for _months_ until he thought he lost it, distraught when he couldn’t find it one day—it was always in his pocket with his battle pass. And here it was, in a seashell on Grimmjow’s bedside table.

Grimmjow held out his hand expectantly. Oh _damn, he was wanting something right now?_ He checked his pockets mentally. Did he bring anything that was actually worth giving to the arrancar? Trying not to look completely panicked, he didn’t think so. He mostly expected Grimmjow to brush it off like he usually did, not demand something _right now._

Ichigo walked over to him with slow, deliberate steps; his legs were _not_ shaking, thanks. Trying not to look at Grimmjow trying not to look at him, faint pink on his cheeks, hand still outstretched like he expected Ichigo to plop another worthless trinket into his palm, he really wanted to smile at the sight. Having no actual items the other man would need, much less want, there was only one thing that passed Ichigo’s mind, the only thing he hoped was little less worthless. Reaching out his own hand and slowly pushing Grimmjow’s expectant palm into a fist, he brushed pale fingers up against the arrancar’s callouses from years of sword-wielding. They were a little rough, but his hand was unexpectedly warm.

 _What am I doing? He’s going to murder me violently. I’m in my human body, it’ll hurt like hell the whole time._ He knew Grimmjow was watching his every move now, as he flipped his fisted-up hand over and tugged it towards him, raising it closer to his face.

Pushing back every anxious feeling beginning to coalesce into a huge mass in his chest, and _really_ hoping he didn’t read the situation wrong, Ichigo brought the arrancar’s hand up to his mouth. Pressing his lips against his battle scarred knuckles, Ichigo closed his eyes. Grimmjow smelled good even in his arrancar body, when smells were usually dulled since everything is composed of reishi. Then again, the whole room smelled different, definitely not bad, it just smelled…like Grimmjow. Still holding the other man’s fist, Ichigo moved his head down, pressing his forehead against boney knuckles. Would he understand? Sure, he was thickheaded, but this _must_ mean something to him too?

Sometimes the words didn’t come out right, came out opposite of what Ichigo always wanted to say. Telling him he was a dumbass dipshit was far easier than admitting he wanted nothing but to wrap his arms around the arrancar, and bury his face in his beautiful blue hair. That Ichigo wanted to see him soft, for him to let his guard down around him, even if it was just one time. Even if it was right before the arrancar inevitably was going to kill him for wanting such stupid things. The war had taken more things from Ichigo than he ever wanted to admit; sometimes he still woke up from the nightmare of Grimmjow laying dead before him, poison steeped in to far for even Orihime to fix. Those were the worst ones.

Feeling the fist tense up made his breath hitch in the worst way. Could he have read it wrong? All the glares, snarls, biting words…could it have not been jealousy? Oh God, had he harbored a very real, very poorly hidden, affection for an ex-espada that couldn’t feel anything past a destructive aggression and anger? Was Grimmjow just angry Ichigo was getting in his space every time with the little spirit, not that Ichigo was giving the attention to the girl _instead_ of him? Letting go of Grimmjow’s hand, he almost wanted the man to kill him, that would probably hurt the least right now.

Ichigo didn’t want to open his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t keep them closed forever. Looking at everything but the man in front of him seemed like the next safest option; he tried to steel his resolve, dropping Grimmjow’s hand in the process. He really wanted to go home and crawl in his bed, forget about everything that was happening like a coward. _Rejection is a bitch._ He felt even worse for Orihime then; _is this what it felt like?_

There was a brush up against his cheek, and Ichigo looked straight into oceanesque eyes, deeper and more vibrant than any sea he’d ever seen; Girmmjow was even closer now. Almost too close, once fisted up hand running long fingers up his jawline slowly, a questioning look in his eyes.

“Grimm…jow?” his throat felt dry, like he stuffed every cotton swab in his father’s office into his mouth. Heart beating violently in his chest, he swallowed, eyes on the man before him. Grimmjow flattened his hand, nearly cupping his cheek with a gentleness he’d never used with Ichigo before. He held his breath.

“What are you trying to give me, exactly?” his words sounded carefully chosen, spoken precisely, eyes were wary, a few strands of hair dipping low into his narrowed line of vision. Ichigo wanted to touch him so bad, his fingers hurt.

Ichigo swallowed. _Is honesty really the best policy if I think I’m going to vomit on him?_ He exhaled, trying to steady the racing of his heart, was sure Grimmjow could hear it hammering against his ribcage.

“Me.”

Blue eyes widened in shock, pink turning red on his face, mouth opened. Usual and almost always present scowl on his face was gone in an instant, shattered in a single word. He wanted to look away from the arrancar’s face, readying himself for the oncoming rejection—arrancar couldn’t feel like other beings, Grimmjow had said that himself, hadn’t he? _I’d rather be dead than vulnerable._ He had to do something to soften the blow, before everything became too much. 

“I mean I…if you don’t—no, I under—”

The grip on his face tightened as Grimmjow crashed his lips down on Ichigo’s, clumsy and a little uncoordinated. _This was not the punch I was expecting._ Composing himself as quickly as he could, Ichigo grabbed the back of Grimmjow’s head and angled their heads together better, lips pushing against each other like each one was fighting a battle neither could afford lose. Grimmjow’s mouth was rough against his, and it was the _best_ thing he’d ever felt.

One hair snaked into the hair on the back of his head, the other wrapping around his waist, pulling him as close as humanly possible, like he was fighting into Ichigo’s skin. A sharp fang sunk into his bottom lip, and as Ichigo sucked in a breath, Grimmjow stuck his tongue in his mouth. _Two can play at this game._ Ichigo worked his tongue against the other’s, as Grimmjow started walking him backwards, towards the bed.

His day had gone from bad, to worse, to _really fucking great._

\-------------------------

Grimmjow didn’t understand. What was he doing with his hand? Giving him spit? What good could that possibly do? Was Ichigo warming up to lick him again? That had been kinda weird. But his lips were warm against his skin, and he found he didn’t really mind it. He watched as Kurosaki bent and pressed his forehead to his knuckles, right where his lips had been. _What the fuck?_ Was he wanting Grimmjow to rip out some of his hair? Why was he so obsessed with hair, the freak; Grimmjow’s hand tensed at the thought. Idiot was taking a page from Kiskue by not putting his thoughts into words like a reasonable being, not that Grimmjow was one to talk. He rolled his eyes, looking at the ginger, who’s eyes were still closed, face flushed and warm.

He tried to pick his words with caution—this was something that seemed important, at least. The ginger hadn’t put anything in his hand when he put it out, so his gesture must’ve meant something, but Grimmjow didn’t want to get his hopes up with what. Hollows weren't supposed to feel things, weren’t designed too, and he’d tried. _Damnit,_ he’d tried, but every time Ichigo looked at him with those big stupid eyes, he felt his mask crack, just a little; the idiot had been wearing him down for fuckin’ _years._ And now he was doing _this?_

“What are you trying to give me, exactly?” There. He asked, trying not to sound any kind of hopeful. Get all this shit over with so they could go back out to the chaos in the living room and pretend this travesty never happened. _May need to stay in Hueco Mundo for a while,_ he thought with a silent sigh. Whatever the answer would be, Grimmjow was certain it wouldn’t be good. There was plenty of shit he could do in Hueco Mundo to keep himself occupied for…like a couple hours probably. _Shit._ He could always pester Nel into a fight—that would waste a lot of time.

“Me.”

Grimmjow’s un-dead heart stopped. Kurosaki…Ichigo wanted….

He uncurled his fist the instant Ichigo dropped it, and traced the ginger’s jaw lightly, resting a hand on the side of his face. His skin was soft. Grimmjow was staring when Ichigo opened his eyes, looking at him back. The expression on his face, his eyes…no one had ever looked at him like that before— that kind of softness was a luxury Grimmjow always assumed was out of his reach. Just another part of being an arrancar, another card that wasn’t in his hand, deck stacked against him. 

Ichigo wanted Grimmjow? To _have_ him? Is that what everything had been about? All their spats, jealousy, insults…everything. Because _neither_ of them knew what else to do? He had the sudden urge to bang his head against a wall. He’d been pining like a _fuckin’ moron_ for _three years_ and everything was—

“I mean I…if you don’t—no, I under—” _Oh hell no._

Grimmjow cut him off by crushing his lips against Ichigo, that seemed like the right thing to do at this point. He was so tired of _thinking;_ he’d never kissed anyone before either, but all the movies Ururu made him watch with her had plenty of…this stuff. It was a little weird since his mask was _right fuckin’ there_ , but Ichigo moved a hand in his hair, because of course he would, and angled their heads differently, getting a better angle to bite at those plump lips. Wrapping an arm around the other’s waist, Grimmjow pulled him as close to him as he could—there was no way in _hell_ he was letting Kurosaki get away from him now. Not after watching and waiting and _hoping_ for _fuckin’_ years. 

Snaking a hand into the ginger’s hair, he realized what he’d been going on about. His hair was _so fuckin’ soft_ , _holy shit._ No wonder Ichigo asked so many questions. _Shoulda done this shit sooner_ , he thought as he bit down on the gingers bottom lip, worming his tongue into an open mouth. Ichigo made a noise, and it went straight down, heat coiling in a _very_ interesting way. Grimmjow pushed back against Kurosaki, not letting him go, tongues still fighting for dominance in his mouth, forcing him to take a step back. And another. Another. Until the ginger’s legs were hitting the side of the bed.

Tongue retreating, Grimmjow pulled Ichigo’s bottom lip a little and growled before pushing him down on the bed. Panting, hooded brown eyes met blue. For a moment, both of them just looked at each other. He could still taste the ginger on his tongue; Ichigo’s smirking lips were red and a little swollen. He grabbed a hold of the arrancar’s jacket and pulled him closer, staring straight up into Grimmjow’s face, head upturned, resting against his abdomen, near his hollow hole. Ichigo brought a hand up to the zipper in the middle of his chest, pulling it down, he pushed it back so he could get a good look at the hole.

He shuddered slightly at the contact so near a sensitive spot; Ichigo must’ve noticed as he started tracing the rim lightly with a single finger.

“This feel weird?”

Grimmjow grunted.

“Little bit. Not bad though.” It felt even stranger when Ichigo slipped a finger inside for a second, and even though his instincts were telling him to _fuckin’ run_ , he stayed, hands fisted into the back of Ichigo’s sweatshirt. Feeling hot breath ghost across his bare skin, he relaxed a little, and brushed his fingers through orange hair. Ichigo tugged again at the jacket.

“I can’t get closer without gettin’ on top of—”

“Then get on top of me,” he ordered. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow down at him; his eyes held a strange expression. A _hungry_ one. Mentally, and maybe even a little physically, Grimmjow rolled his eyes. He wasn’t one for following orders, but he supposed he’d give this one a shot. It looked like it would be interesting. Settling one knee on either side of Kurosaki’s legs, Grimmjow felt fuckin’ _awkward_ , as heat rose to his face. Something about his legs being separate, straddling Ichigo’s lap, the look in his face, everything felt so…exposed. Arms hanging over the ginger’s shoulders, a hand tangled in his hair, Grimmjow felt as Ichigo pressed his lips to the arrancar’s exposed chest, right above the hole.

He gripped Kurosaki’s hair tighter as he started moving up, lips ghosting against flushed and exposed skin, hands pressed on either side of him inside his jumpsuit, feeling the skin around his pecs, his ribs. When he flicked a finger over a hardening nipple, Grimmjow curled over the top of him, head now resting on the other’s, panting slightly. The ginger’s lips didn’t stop moving up, now in the center of his chest; Grimmjow felt his tongue slide up his chest, causing a hitch in his breath. _Holy shit._ Everything Ichigo was doing sent a tingling sensation straight down his spine. Moving his arms from soft hair, Grimmjow cupped each side of Ichigo’s face, forcing him to look up as he leaned down, pressing their lips together once more.

He could spend the rest of the week just doing this, enjoying how the other’s lips moved against his own, even though Grimmjow didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Just mimicking Ichigo’s movements, but it felt right. This time it was Ichigo’s tongue in his mouth, struggling for dominance. Wet muscle sliding and rubbing against each other, Grimmjow could feel the ginger smirk into it. Kurosaki ran his tongue across a pointed canine, and the arrancar bit down gently, holding the tongue in place, caressing it with his own. Eyes starting directly into golden brown ones, _Gotcha,_ he thought, until he felt a pinch to his nipple and gasped, letting his captive tongue go.

As they parted, breaking for air, Grimmjow heard some kind of fuss outside the door in the hallway and frowned. Glasses was yelling—Boobs sounded like she was struggling to not break out in fits of uncontrolled laughter.

The door flew open, _Why do I keep forgettin’ to lock the fuckin’ thing_ , little fox girl hanging by the doorknob, Boobs right behind her, a big smile on her dumb face. Glasses followed her, scowling between the woman and the fox like they owed him an apology. _Prissy little shit._

“I’m so sorry Ichigo, she got away from…” she looked between the two, Grimmjow still knelt on top of Ichigo’s legs, faces only a few inches apart. He could feel his face heating up…again. _Oh fuck._ Her face turned red, but not before Grimmjow caught the near face-splitting smile erupting across her face.

“I uh…we were…”Ichigo started, still halfway muffled by Grimmjow’s skin. Like he could state anything other than the obvious. How _much_ would he say? _Hey guys, I was just busy sucking Grimmjow’s face off, could you close the door? I’d really like to continue._ At least, that’s more or less what Grimmjow would say.

Grimmjow just pushed his face forward with the hand still in the back of his hair, causing their lips to meet in a brief kiss.

“That’s what we were doing.” Girmmjow said simply, letting Ichigo go and getting off him, trying to walk out the stiffness of his legs and zipping his jumpsuit up past his hole.

Glasses looked like he wasn’t gonna shit for a week and then shit for a week nonstop; Boobs clapped her hands over her mouth, face turning an ever brighter red, that was was even possible. The giant appeared behind them, along with a suspicious looking Kiskue. But he always looked suspicious, so Grimmjow wasn't sure if that even counted.

Grimmjow heard growling coming from his side; turning he saw the little girl with fangs bared jump right at Ichigo, claws outstretched, aiming for his face, and rolled his eyes. _Possessive little shit._ Kurosaki flinched and closed his eyes, like he’d fully embraced being cut open by her dull claws. Grimmjow grabbed the back of her kimono before she could reach his ginger idiot, shaking her a little in the air, a slight frown on his face. Kid looked confused mostly.

“No,” was all he said and she went limp in his grasp, lip poking out in a pout again. Ichigo had opened his eyes again, witnessing whatever the hell was happening. _At least she doesn’t look like she’ll cry again,_ he thought, as he watched Kurosaki reach out a hand to swipe it across her white head. _Tch_. _Not as soft as yours._ Ichigo frowned, like he was thinking the same thing.

“Feel better now?” Grimmjow snorted at him, hand still holding her in place. He watched her wiggle her paw-feet a little, as Kurosaki pushed against his shoulder lightly.

“Whatever,” Ichigo grumbled, side flush against his own. He was staring down the brat in Grimmjow's grasp, like she'd have some kind of answer. All the _shit_ he’d put up with for the past few days, for what? For Ichigo to be disappointed with how _not_ soft her hair was? What an idiot.

 _Well,_ he thought, looking at the other man who was scowling slightly, and chuckled, _at least somethin’ good finally came outta this mess._

The girl growled at Ichigo again, swiping her claws at him as he brushed his hand through her white hair once more. Why she seemed to hate the soul reaper so much was a little confusing honestly, but it was funny to see. Everyone ususally flocked to Kurosaki like sickly little moths to an open candle; it was nice to see the opposite, even if hte opposite was a bratty little fox spirit the ginger was desperate to get a hold of anyway. 

“F…,” Both men quirked an eyebrow at her. The only one of the little shits that spoke was the bush-tail. What did Kiskue call him? A tank? Tanu-something? _Whatever._ Boobs had come into the room fully now, much to Grimmjow’s half-hidden dismay, her face no longer red, big smile on her face. Glasses and Giant were right behind her; she was reaching out her hands to take the little monster in his grasp.

“F…,” she tried again, trying to sound it out. She ran a tongue over her lips and sucked in more air, glaring directly at the Shinigami. 

“Fucker!” she yelled, not breaking eye contact with Ichigo, who paled at the word. Grimmjow just started laughing then, leaning against Kurosaki as he did so, and dropped the kit on the floor who growled and started attacking Ichigo’s leg with her claws.

“Ouch! You brat—Grimm—stop! What the _hell_ have you been teaching this kid?” Grimmjow watched as Kurosaki struggled to free his leg from her beartrap of claws and fangs, not trying to contain his laughter, even slithering an arm around the other man to hold on. Ichigo wiggled around in his grasp, but didn't try to break free; a hand curled around his bicep as he rested his arm on the arrancar, still trying to kick out of the kit's claws. 

“Mei-Mei!” That was the voice of the one speaking spirit, as he rushed into the room. He still had his little straw-hat dangling from his neck. She growled at him once and kept battling Ichigo’s leg. Having enough, he picked her up, mirroring how Grimmjow had done so just minutes before and held her an arms distance away from his face. 

“Will you quit it? He’s not just _yours_ you know.” The arrancar blushed lightly, hoping no-one else saw, and tightened his grip on Ichigo's hip. Glancing around the room quickly, he noted how the shopkeepers eyes gleamed in the light—one person certainly did. He glared at the man, but said nothing, even after he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively behind his broken fan. Those other spirits really did a number on it. _Good._ The kit ceased her growling and twitched her nose, smelling the air between them, blinking and furrowing up her brow, she seemed confused.

Then she reached out her grabby little paws in the same motion she did with Grimmjow the first time they’d met. She wanted to be held. Grimmjow couldn’t help but glare at her a little. What, _now_ she was too good for him? _Little brat._ Unfortunately, Ichigo looked delighted, and quickly pulled her closer to him; she wrapped her arms around his neck. Now Grimmjow was glaring at two people. Her tail hit his face, swiping across his nose and catching him off guard.

“Why you little—”Wait. That was fur that hit him, not a spectral swirling mass of energy. Blinking he looked at her. _How the fuck did I not notice that?_

The kit’s ears and tail were covered in fur as white as her hair, tail tip black as Hueco Mundo’s night sky. Brushing up against the gingers arm, white little ears twitching, Ichigo noticed as well.

“Hey, you’ve got a real tail and ears now!” Kit wiggled them, as if in agreement, mouth open showing off her fangs. They seemed a little longer now. She turned quickly to face Grimmjow for a moment and stuck out her tongue to him, eyes narrowed. Grimmjow raised a middle finger to her, which she mimed back. 

"Stop that," he said against her head, closing a hand around hers. She turned back to Ichigo then. 

“Yes, that signifies that she’s a fully formed Kitsune now,” the boy piped up, scratching his nose with one clawed finger-paw-thing, “And that we need to go home now Mei-Mei.” Ichigo looked like he was trying to pout, but Mei’s paws were currently rubbing all over his face, squishing it into ridiculous expressions. Grimmjow snorted at the sight; Ichigo didn't look like he minded all that much. _Better him than me._

“Can you not come back?” The boy smiled at that. Grimmjow noticed he had the orange ball held in one of his paws, claws sheathed. Had all the other spirits gone as well? Grimmjow couldn't sense them in the other room, and he'd figure they would've followed the group into his bedroom since that was apparently where the party was now. Then again, he couldn't really sense them before. 

“They’ll all need to stay in the Spirit Society for a little while now, but once that’s done, yes we can come back.” Kurosaki's face brightened at that. 

“Really?” Grimmjow rolled his eyes. Ichigo looked so happy he wanted to kiss him again. The boy shook his head. Kiskue patted him on his head. The boy spirit raised his free hand up and gestured to the girl--Mei-Mei--like it was finally time to leave. 

The little girl made huffy sound, like she really didn't want too, but released Ichigo’s face, and he set her on the floor. Clambering over to the other spirit, she watched his hand wave at her a little before she took it in her own. Tanuki! _That's what Kiskue called him._ The tanuki turned to face Kiskue for a second, bowing to him. 

"Thank you for your hospitality, I will speak with the elders about what you said," Grimmjow and Ichigo deadpanned to each other. That wasn't a good sign. Would Kiskue get his foot into the Spirit Society now? He felt a headache coming on. The boy turned back to face them, smiling. 

“Come back soon, okay?” Ichigo said, waving his hand. Tanuki bowed as he started to turn transparent, tail stilling behind him; he dropped the ball into a pocket in his pants before reahing up to set his straw-hat on top of his head. 

“Bye Mei-Mei!” She flashed her teeth at them both, as she too became transparent, miming the waving gesture, ears twitching around. 

“Bye-bye fuckers!” she yelled as both spirits turned into a bright white light, swirling around the room before vanishing completely. 

Ichigo looked at Grimmjow.

“You’re such a dick,” he said, smiling, brushing a hand through the arrancar’s hair, other hand still grasping his muscular arm. Grimmjow grinned at him, showing off his sharper fangs. 

“Think I’ll keep you too,” Grimmjow said as he leaned down, pressing his lips on his idiot Shinigami. With his free hand, he ran his fingers up his neck and into soft orange hair. Shooting a glare at the shopkeeper out of the corner of his eye, that was a que for _Get the fuck out now._ Glasses face was tomato red, mouth hanging open like he was about to say something Grimmjow really didn't want to hear. 

“Ah~I think we should give them some privacy~~” Kiskue sing-songed to the trio of idiots standing in his room, ushering them out. Grimmjow made a note to thank him later, as Ichigo wrapped his arms back around him. He heard the soft click of the lock as the shopkeeper shut it.

_Finally._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay end! This got a little angsty, but who cares! I can already feel myself wanting to kind of hyper-fixate on Burn the Witch, so when that gets more content, I'm sure I'll have something! Until then, who knows! Probably still Bleach? Maybe I'll rewatch it for the 700th time, since I apparently don't have that much of a life :D :D I'll start looking for other prompts or something soon, but Ima take a break on writing for a few days. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this second GrimmIchi story! :)

**Author's Note:**

> So this was based oh so slightly, so, so slightly, on the BBS Sprit Society, really in name only. I'm not going to be diving into that particular world in this story, but I thought I'd mention anyway. It's also giving me kinda like Alice in Wonderland-y vibes a little, but that wasn't intentional. Grimmjow interactions with littles makes my heart happy:D
> 
> I hope you enjoy~~


End file.
